Without Comment

The wind in the trees is trying to tell me something in code. I spent all day with a pad of paper trying to decipher it. A storm’s coming, and the sky is getting prematurely dark. The tree’s message becomes even more urgent, like a stutterer whispering sweet talk to his new bride in the hull of a ghost ship. There’s lightning scattering across the sky. The empty arms of a sailor’s costume lift in the wind.